Stabilizing the North

[revenant]

The old man rolled his shoulders, loosening up the decades of wear and tear on his aging body. He pulled on the armor that had rested next to him through his nap. The cold ground had done little to ease the aches and pains of the septuagenarian and yet the renewed focus had done wonders for his spirit. He had been to the Temple of Decus before his departure, an act he had neglected far too often in his "retirement." He had felt his spirit grow fallow and his will fade "shopkeeping."

Now with the mission at hand, he had time to reflect on the reasons why. He was growing soft. Time within the Fort's walls and with the few creature comforts at hand had fostered a spirit of complacency; a lesson that had swiftly been learned on his most recent forays into the North.

The goals were simple enough; support the reconstruction of the battered township to serve as a staging base and refitting station and mediate the differences between the Protesters and the Miners on the eastern front. The heretics were too active to have so many factions fighting amongst themselves. Infighting was a luxury reserved for time when the kin and the Afflicted were not raging at the doorsteps of humanity.

Much as he had done in his youth, Albus had gone forward of the rest, preparing the way for the others to follow. Unlike his youth, this time was marked by negotiation and preparation; treating instead of removing obstacles; and most importantly thinking about the long-term implications of his actions.

His first stop had been the sleepy Riverside town, abuzz with new workers, mercenaries, and hired hands. Such things indicated a heavier hand behind the actions. Albus stepped carefully. He had spoken with a few of the laborers, inquiring about their needs, their pay, and the conditions. Their uniformity belied organization. The old man noted their remarks and passed on his information and a few comments about his superior work with the Fort, noting the progress on the damaged wall to the south. He emphasized that there was no move to take charge, simply to reinforce the town and ensure that it was fit for passing travelers and adventurers looking to eat, sleep, and conduct a few repairs. They seemed, ambivalent at best, but he was hopeful the silver coins he had left with them would at least push his questions towards the foreman or overseers.

Next was the mining camp. He had been here several times in recent weeks. The ore was good in these parts even in spite of the danger it presented. Besides, it had offered him some time topside, outside of the evergrowing cave-ins. He would have to write a guide about that sometime in the future, but not just yet.

As he approached he was met with a bolt that narrowly missed his head. Fortune was on his side for once. He rolled back throwing the dagger towards his assailant. It struck home, and the man toppled over grunting in pain. Albus stepped aside, no sense in finishing the man. He was here to quell the fights, not stoke them further. A protester broke from the picket line. The raucous behind him continuing to break the otherwise eerie silence of the area. Their words were sparse, but to the point. He was here to mediate the issues and had the coin, resources, and backing necessary to keep the peace should it come to it.

Stability in the north, that was the key. There were too few friendly bastions to stand against the coming storm. The time for petty politics was at an end, for the end was nigh.